Karma
by Lynn Jones
Summary: Carma is alone, now that Caryn is dead. She just wants balance, but Caryn's life before they met has broken free of its rocky prison, and the only person it can take its anger out on is Carma.
1. Chapter 1

3

Karma

**Prologue**

"You look like slag, Cytoplasm," Buzzsaw chirped. She glared at him so fiercely, the metal bird flinched.

"Thanks, Buzzsaw. I hadn't noticed. Humans don't age as slowly as you hulking metal creeps!" she grumped. It was true. Cybertronians aged a LOT slower than humans. It was the whole 'metal vs. organic' thing again.

"Why, Cytoplasm, you've turned old on me!" he teased. She tried to scowl, but ended up grinning instead for a moment. Then she grew serious once more as she recalled the circumstances of their meeting..

"Buzzsaw," she murmured softly, almost too softly for even his finely tuned ears to hear. She didn't want to wake Carma up. "I'm not sure this was a good idea. I mean, it's not like I took out ALL of them in that rockslide. Some of them might be tracking you – or me."

"You got enough of them to get the message across. There's a sort of uneasy truce, all across the universe. Their leaders are dead or buried – some of them dead AND buried. Some of the outposts still don't realize anything's changed here on Earth. A few decades is nothing when you're on Nebulan, trying to get the natives to trust you enough to let you live. I bet no one's even realized Prime and Megs haven't been in contact." He was trying to reassure her; she knew that.

"Still…I won't be around much longer. We both know that. Carma…you will protect her for me, won't you?" she asked. Buzzsaw nodded, his electronic eyes suddenly too bright.

"Soundwave bound me to you. He knew he might not be around to fulfill his debt. If this is what you really want…" he trailed off, and she nodded firmly.

"Leave the canyon. If they get out, they get out. If not, you can show her and explain everything. I think she'll be strong enough to force them beck if they do get out." The two old friends sat in silence for a moment, reveling in each other's company; they hadn't seen each other face to face in years. The Buzzsaw said out loud what they were both thinking.

"Caryn," he whispered. "What if she doesn't want to?"

**Chapter One**

**I Meet a Talking Bird**

Most people don't like funerals. Most people don't wake up and say to themselves, "Gosh, I'd sure like to go to a funeral today!" That's because, for most people, going to a funeral means that someone they care about has died, and that slagging sucks. Of course, there ARE people who wake up and say, "all right! I've got another funeral today!" Those people are the ones who work at the funeral home. They show up all smiles, ready to cheer up the mourners.

"Slagging creep," I spat, glaring at one of the funeral home employees. Someone shushed me. I wanted to roll my eyes at them, but said eyes were too busy getting all wet and foggy to roll properly. That made me even madder.

I mean, I had known all along that Caryn wasn't my biological grandmother, but she'd raised me. She was the only family – the only friend, really – I'd ever had. Now she was gone. She'd left me our house, which was a mile or so away from an unnamed canyon. Well, sort of, it was unnamed. We – Caryn and I – called it Rockslide Canyon, in honor of the enormous rockslide that had almost completely filled it a few months before Caryn built our little house and moved in.

I was on my own. I was homeschooled until college; then I took online courses at various colleges. Caryn had always encouraged my interest in computers and mechanical engineering. Of course, we were just about as self-sufficient as modern people could be. We had our garden, and chickens for eggs and meat. We had to go to the store for beard, milk, news, that kind of thing, but we didn't really need anyone else. Or we hadn't. Now it was just me out there, and I figured it was going to be pretty lonely.

Because my eyes were still overly bright and watery, like I was about to cry (which I did NOT do, I might add), I drove home slowly. However not speedily I drove, though, I found it increasingly hard to notice the scenery, which was all blurred together like I was either tearing up the pavement with my velocity or…well, it was either my speed, or I was closer to tears than I had previously thought.

Whichever reason, it was difficult for me to notice the landscape when there was so much pain so much closer to me. Namely, it was the pain of losing Caryn. Still, I did catch a few details, like the odd shape of the car's shadow as it raced across the ground alongside me, and the way it jumped and swayed, and how the shape would separate into two shadows from time to time, and the non-car shadow was vaguely bird-shaped. Eventually it dawned on me why; I glanced out the window to check, and there it was again! The silhouette of a hawk was on the shadow roof of the shadow car on the ground beside my car. A moment later, it was gone completely. Unsettled, I sped up and nearly missed my turn.

As soon as I made it home, I changed into more comfortable clothes (a simple black dress with itchy tights is NOT comfy). This means I pulled on yesterday's jeans (I was tired, okay?) and a clean T-shirt. On my way back out the door, I grabbed a jacket, because it was only the middle of spring and still a little chilly sometimes. I hiked over the familiar rocky path, down to the edge of my favorite place: Rockslide Canyon.

On any given normal day before Caryn died, Rockslide Canyon would have been filled with huge boulders. It wasn't really a canyon anymore, because of the rock filling it. It looked more like a river of rock that had been frozen in time. Of course, Rockslide Canyon isn't full of rocks now.

When I reached the lip of the canyon, I stared in disbelief. I'd known the earthquake a few days ago might have altered the place a little bit, but I had definitely not expected the crevice floor to swallow up all those rocks! Well, anyway, it turns out that Rockslide Canyon is about three stories deep.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come here after the earthquake and Caryn's death," a chirping, metallic, yet somehow birdlike voice commented. "I did not expect you to return to this place quite so soon, I must admit." Sometime during this little speech from an unknown source, I whirled around to see who had followed me to the canyon. I don't know who I thought it would be, but a huge metal bird was definitely not on my list of possibilities! Upon finding that it was indeed a bird that was talking to me, I took a step back in surprise.

I took a step back into the open air over the newly reopened three-story-deep chasm of Rockslide Canyon. My scream caught in my throat, choking me. _Oh great! I'm going to choke to death before I even hit the bottom!_ I thought absurdly. Then my previously clogged throat cleared. Before I could panic again, something cold and hard wrapped around my shoulders. I felt a tug and a little discomfort as whatever it was that had caught me eased up into a glide.

Another scream rose when I looked up to see what exactly it was that had caught me. The golden and black metal bird that had talked was clutching me with its talons as it flew back toward the lip of the canyon. My feet touched firm ground, and the bird thing released me. I stumbled forward, and barely managed to stay on my feet. The bird landed a few feet away, perched on a rock I used to climb on. I stumbled again.

"Careful, Carma," he (I guess the thing was a he) murmured. I blinked rapidly to try to conceal my shock.

"You…you can talk!" I exclaimed. He sighed and made a curious little gesture with his head. He sort of tossed it, but not quite. I suspected that if he had had regular bird eyes instead of the glowing red slits on either side of his head, those predator's eyes would have been rolling in irritation.

"Yes, I can talk, _obviously_. Primus, I'd forgotten how annoying you cytoplasmic forms can be! Are you going to tell me I can fly now, too?" he asked sarcastically. "What did I let Soundwave and Caryn get me into?" One word from all that got my attention.

"Caryn? You knew my grandma?" I gasped. My mind was racing, but it was racing to nowhere. Wouldn't Caryn have mentioned a giant, metal, talking bird if she knew one? Obviously not and obviously she did.

"Yeah, I knew her. She told me to keep any eye on you and a talon at the ready in case you needed me. Though I do not think she envisioned me flying to your rescue the same day I met you."

"So, uh, do you…you know…do you have a name?" I inquired, trying very hard to keep my voice polite and neutral. The bird tossed his head in that eye-rolling movement again.

"It's about time you asked! Yes, I have a name. I am Buzzsaw. I used to be a Decepticon warrior, and served under Soundwave as one of his cassettes. Then he bound me to serve and protect Caryn, in case he wasn't able to," he informed me. My head was buzzing.

"Decepticon?" I repeated. Buzzsaw heaved a long-suffering sigh and shook his hawk like head.

"Surely Caryn told you the story behind Rockslide Canyon's name!" he exclaimed in disbelief. And now that he mentioned it, I did remember something about the canyon.

"The Autobots and Decepticons were fighting a war…a long war that had raged for eons and had devastated many planets and races. About twenty years ago, there was a massive battle in an unnamed canyon. That same day, one of the combatants had grown weary of the war…a human, whose name Caryn didn't know…this human decided to end the war, because it would tear the world apart if it continued. So she – the humans in her stories were always female – triggered a rockslide. It was so big and buried them so deep, the canyon was filled up." I fell silent, lost in memories of all the other stories Caryn had told me when I was younger.

"Were there other stories?" Buzzsaw asked, shattering my thoughts like a rock hitting a thin sheet of glass. I was startled into speaking before I really thought about it.

"Oh, yeah, lots," I answered. Then I thought for a moment. "She gave all her characters weird names, though. And most of the stories had the same main character: a human girl called the Cytoplasm. I think she was probably the one who trapped the Autobots and Decepticons in Rockslide Canyon."

"And which side of the war was the Cytoplasm on?" Buzzsaw prompted gently. I shrugged.

"It varied, really. Sometimes she was with the Autobots, and sometimes she was the pride of the Decepticons. I think there were probably two Cytoplasms, at least. It was almost like 'Cytoplasm' was a catch-all term for Caryn's main character, no matter which story it was," I speculated. I wasn't sure why I was telling Buzzsaw all of this; maybe because he said he'd known Caryn. Anyway, he shook his head forcefully.

"No, there was only ever one Cytoplasm," he corrected softly. "She was my charge…before Caryn," he added carefully, as though dancing around a truth he did not want to admit to knowing.

_He's hiding something!_ The thought burst into my mind unexpectedly. _But what would he hide – and why?_ I closed my eyes for a moment, then cast the thought aside. I opened my eyes to find Buzzsaw watching me warily, to see if I bought it or not. I decided to play along.

"All right. Are you saying ALL of those stories about the Cytoplasm are true?" I demanded. He nodded. "And you told me you were a Decepticon, so I'm guessing those are true, too?" I got another nod from the golden bird. I had one more question left: "Are all of the Decepticons big metal birds?" Evidently, this was not the inquiry he had been expecting.

"What?" he choked. "No! Most Transformers are twenty to thirty feet tall – at least – and humanoid in their root mode!" I caught the change. It was time for some more questions.

"Transformers? Root mode?" I echoed, making Buzzsaw do his eye-roll thing again.

"Primus send I live through this," I heard him mutter under his breath (do robots have breath?) before responding, "Transformers refers to all Cybertronians, whether they be Autobots, Decepticons, or of no faction. We Transform, usually between two forms, or modes. And before you can ask, a Cybertronian is a being from the planet Cybertron." I was quiet for a moment after he finished.

"Now what?" I asked finally.

"Now we find them, if that's what you want," Buzzsaw told me quietly. I watched him and he watched me anxiously for a moment or two. Then I took a deep breath.

"Sure; why not?" I agreed at last.

Buzzsaw bowed awkwardly, and I climbed onto his back, and we flew. I have to say, flying was exhilarating. Oh, it was SO much better than falling. Buzzsaw soared high enough that we could see and follow the immense series of what appeared to be squared-off footprints. When we neared the road, the footprints vanished abruptly, to be replaced by tire tracks. Naturally, there were no more tracks once they reached the tar of the road; only melted tar took and held tracks.

"Slagging molten scrap!" I cursed. I have to admit, some of the curses and cusses Caryn and I used didn't make much sense to most people. Obviously Buzzsaw knew what it meant, though, because he twisted his head around to give me a flat, level look. He didn't say anything, though, to his credit.

"We'll check the bases we used last time," he decided.

"All right," I agreed. Buzzsaw circled, instead of moving on. I gave him a curious look. "Is something wrong?" I asked tentatively. He started.

"Oh! Not really, it's just…Autobot or Decepticon?" he asked. I thought about it. I knew what he was asking: which side of the war would I support? I knew Buzzsaw had once been a Decepticon, so maybe…

_Cunning and powerful, the Decepticons were. They were cruel, too, for the most part. The Autobots, now, they weren't the wisest bunch by a long shot. They were not as coldly efficient in battle, like the Decepticons. But they have hearts. Autobots care about peace and friendship, and no Autobot would ever rank a missions or goal over another's life, be it Autobot or Decepticon, friend or stranger, combatant or innocent. Good-hearted, compassionate, and generally good to the point of foolishness, those Autobots,_ Caryn had told me once. I thought about this.

"Good-hearted to the point of foolishness," I whispered out loud, "But they had hearts."

Circling high above my home and the nearby road, over the places where I had spent most of my life, with my quarry getting farther and farther away with each passing second, I made my choice.

_Lynn Jones_


	2. Chapter 2

3

Karma

**Chapter 2**

**The Non-Transforming Transformers**

"Well, if they're not here, where did they go?" I asked Buzzsaw. My golden companion shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe they just traveled more slowly than we did, and they just aren't here yet," he suggested. I could tell from his tone of voice and slightly disappointed posture that he didn't really believe his own words, though. Something tugged at the back of my mind – something else Caryn had told me t some point.

"_I doubt they will ever return to the old Techonobot base; it's way too close to where the Decepticon base was. They probably would not return to the Ark, either, because their enemies know where that is."_

"_But if they couldn't go back, where could they go?"_

"_Well, they would have to go back to the Ark kin Oregon at least a few times, if not to stay, then to retrieve their equipment. Then, if they felt that base was not secure, they would try somewhere else, I guess."_

"_But wouldn't they have to be someplace where regular people would not be able to find them, and get hurt?"_

"_Oh, yes, Carma. That is why the volcano that hid the Ark was best for them, you see. No one wanted to get too close, even when the volcano was dormant."_

"A volcano was bet…" I murmured. "It would have to be close to the original base, so they could get all of their tools and supplies from the Ark. And they would send out scouts to see about a location for a permanent headquarters."

"All right, I admit it, you lost me," Buzzsaw confessed, staring openly at me in confusion. "What are you talking about, Carma?" I waved his questions aside absently.

"I'm thinking. Hush," I ordered. Buzzsaw bristled, but fell silent. "Are there any other semi-active volcanoes in the area?"

"Um…I don't know. I am not a travel guide, and I do NOT have Google Maps programmed in my processor!" Buzzsaw snapped.

"We will need to check a town – one with a good library, or maybe just a public computer. A hotel with a lot of local attractions brochures would work, too. Oh, and we'll probably need to fly to Oregon in the very near future," I added as an afterthought. Buzzsaw did his eye-roll thing.

"Is there anything else my lady would like to put on my shopping list?" the golden bird grumbled. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. I smiled anyway, choosing to take it as a joke.

"Naw, just make sure that you use those eco-friendly cloth bags," I joked back. In response, Buzzsaw heaved a long-suffering sigh. Then he turned serious.

"Really, though, Carma, why in the name of Primus Oregon of all places? And what was all that babble about volcanoes?" he asked tiredly. I shrugged uncomfortably.

"It was just something Caryn told me a while back," I told him vaguely. Suddenly, it seemed weird to tell a strange (in more ways than one) golden bird about Caryn and the stories she used to tell. Besides, he was hiding something, and two could play at the 'hide stuff for no reason whatsoever' game. Unfortunately for me, that game doesn't work out too well when the other player (namely, Buzzsaw) already knows just about everything.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, comprehension dawning on his sharp-beaked face. "Yeah, I remember now. She didn't think they would ever go back to any of their old bases, except maybe the Ark, which is in Oregon," he stated, seeming very proud of himself. I scowled though.

"Just get flying, feather brain," I ordered sharply. I distinctly heard Buzzsaw mutter something _not_ complementary about 'bossy human' and 'just like the Cytoplasm isn't she?' I didn't get that part at all.

Still, we made it to Oregon with both of us alive – somehow. And somehow, none of the possible places for the Autobots to have set up a base, even just a temporary one (and there were a LOT) seemed right. This was mostly because all of the likely places were empty of life – Cybertronian or otherwise – when we got there.

"We," Buzzsaw announced at last, "are on a wild goose chase." I sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement.

"And who would the goose be, Decepticon?" a sneaky someone who had snuck up behind us without us realizing snapped. I whirled around to face…a curly-haired teenager. He was perched on the rock outcropping behind us.

"Why, you are of course, meat bag!" I swear, the Transformer who dove at the kid could have been Buzzsaw's red and black twin. He looked to exactly the same model (did I say that right?) as my golden companion, with the black accents even in the exact same places on his shiny red chassis. The boy screamed as the bird dove at him, talons out. Something thumped into the ground at my feet – my tool bag. I didn't question its sudden appearance, I didn't think. I just grabbed it, twirled it by the shoulder strap like some bizarre weighted lasso, and then let it go.

"What in the Inferno – _slag_!" the other bird squawked. My bag, which was incredibly heavy with metal tools and scraps and a few other odds and ends that had accumulated over the years, smashed into his left wing, crushing one of the major supports.

"Scram, you filthy metal turkey!"I yelled fiercely. The metal hawk's glowing crimson eyes fixed on me and blazed with fiery hate.

"_You_. You are the girl the Cytoplasm raised for spite! You are the one she meant to be our jailer!" it snarled (wow. Most birds can't do that. Regular beaks just don't do 'snarl' very well).

"She is the heir, Laserbeak. _Caryn_ transferred all our debts to Carma here. You can not harm Carma. I will not let you. Besides, you know what would happen if you hurt the heir to Caryn's debts." The red one seemed to shrink in on itself, because obviously he DID know what would happen, and it wasn't very pleasant.

"But…which side is she on? Whose debt is she going to pursue?" he demanded. The demand had very little force behind it – it was more like a plea for help than a demand for answers. Buzzsaw sighed.

"It is not up to us which side she chooses. It is her choice and her choice alone. This was Caryn's command. No one will pressure or influence Carma's decision – especially you," Buzzsaw spat. The red one – Laserbeak – seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. Then he got control of himself again.

"Very well. I will inform the others of what you have relayed. We will, of course, obey Caryn. No sane Decepticon wants to cross the Cytoplasm's heir," he added, almost to himself, before leaping into the air and limping away. I retrieved my bag, thinking _saying 'sane Decepticon' is like saying 'jumbo shrimp',_ then turned my attention to the teen.

"Hello. I am Carma. What is your name?" I asked gently. The boy stared after Laserbeak for a moment, then shivered.

"I'm Daniel," he told me, not looking at me. "Most people call me Danny." He still refused to meet my eyes. "Are you really the Cytoplasm's heir?" I couldn't help it; I gaped openly at him.

"WHAT? Caryn took me in, but I've never even met any Cytoplasm!" I nearly shouted.

"Yes, she is," Buzzsaw corrected me. Daniel – Danny – did not even try to hold back his scowl as he glared at Buzzsaw.

"Why don't you just slag off and mind your own Primus-forsaken business, Decepticreep?" he growled.

"Hey! Watch it, squishy, or you'll be slagged right off this cliff!" the bird snapped.

"Buzzsaw, stop it. We will talk about this later. Right now, it looks like Danny boy here can lead us straight to the Autobots," I pointed out reasonably. Buzzsaw gave an annoyed _harrumph_ and looked away.

"After what the Cytoplasm did? No slagging way!" the boy shouted. Yes, he actually shouted at us. That's not a very Autobot behavior. I almost told him so, but then I realized what he'd actually said. Oh, Primus, this was SO not going to be easy, especially if they thought I was the Cytoplasm's heir. I mean, the Cytoplasm did horrible things to some of the Autobots, and even more horrible things to the others. In fact, I was willing to bet at least fifty bucks that this kid had been hearing the awful stories of Cytoplasm as a Decepticon, but not the ones where she helped the Autobots. How very biased of the Autobots.

"The Cytoplasm wasn't all bad, though, was she?" I reminded him softly. I didn't want him to know how frustrated I was. "Please, Daniel, could you take us to the Autobots? I swear by Primus I don't mean any of you any harm."

He was not convinced by so feeble an argument – if in fact you could call it that – and I didn't blame him for that in the least. I searched my memory frantically for something that would convince him, and found nothing. Luckily for me, Buzzsaw stepped up to the plate.

"Maybe she never formally allied herself with the Autobots, but the Cytoplasm did leave the Decepticons," my companion pointed out. Daniel scowled at him. Obviously, he was trying very hard not to be swayed – and succeeding.

"If you think that will work, you should think again. Rogue Decepticons are even worse than the regular ones under Megatron's control!" he argued. I sighed and let them at it. I could tell they were going to be arguing for a long, long while. I took my bag and moved a little way off, to avoid being dragged back in. I decided to work on some defensive measures. I mean, if I was going to be hanging out with huge alien robots in the middle of a slagging war, I was going to be slagging prepared! I needed weapons!

Suddenly, I felt like someone was watching me. I glanced around, then again. Slag! Was that really…slag. There was a convoy of cars headed toward us at top speed. I had a feeling they weren't friendly. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was the guns mounted on the two Lamborghinis I could barely make out through the dust cloud they were raising. In case you don't know already, guns are usually not indicators of peace.

"Buzzsaw!" I called, letting some of my fear bleed into my voice – no pun intended. (Yes, I admit it: a dozen or more Autobots hurtling toward me made me just a little bit afraid) He glided over, and I pointed out the approaching vehicles.

"Well, it looks like Danny boy was not all by his lonesome out here," he commented.

"Of course he wasn't alone!" a voice behind us (not Daniel's) snapped. The speaker (who had also somehow managed to sneak up on us) seemed to be seriously offended. Again, I turned around to face off against an unknown intruder. I scowled at the invading Transformer's metal boot. I tilted my head back, turning my face (and displeasure) upward, and the mostly-gray-and-white Autobot shrank back when he saw my expression.

"And who in the name of the fragging Inferno would you be?" I asked him calmly. No, really! I was really, incredibly calm…considering the position and situation I was in right then. Oh, all right! Fine! I said it angrily! Are you happy now?

"I'm hurt – deeply, truly hurt! I would have thought you knew those Cytoplasm stories you were going on about. Or maybe you do, and she just never mentioned me…" I was totally taken aback by this. I scrutinized him, noting a few small yet telltale details. The fin-like projections on either side of his head lit up blue every time he talked…hmmm…glowed blue…oh, yeah!

"Slag off, Wheeljack," I told him in a fairly convincingly bored voice. I saw he was startled not only that I'd known his name, let alone the Cybertronian cusses. "My throat is SO not big enough for a kiloton like you to jump down!"

"Oh. So you DO know who we are," he muttered, sullen now that his jibe had proven inefficient. I'm not entirely sure what I had been planning to say next, but whatever it was, it never got off my tongue. I got cut off by an explosion down where the Autobots had been. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Buzzsaw leap skyward, then dive. Somehow, I knew. Maybe it was all those stories going to my head…. Anyway, I ran over to the edge of the cliff we were all on and jumped right off. Crazy, I know. Still, I did land neatly on Buzzsaw's back, feet apart to keep my balance.

"I hope you don't mind, but I made some additions to your arsenal," he called back. He really had to raise his voice in order to be heard over the wind of our speed. His words made me curious, so I pulled the flap back on my bag and began rummaging through it. It did not take long at all to find what he meant: a medium-sized, extra-sturdy, anti-heat-and-friction bag tucked into one corner of my tool bag.

Inside this smaller bag was a mind-boggling assortment of…(wait for it)…weapons. Apparently, Buzzsaw had been thinking along the same lines as I had earlier; he thought I should have some means of defending myself, too. Anyway, there was a wicked-looking knife with a special sheath that kept the jell stuff that completely coated the blade wet and away from my other weapons and tools.

There was also a cool mechanical crossbow that was exactly the right size for yours truly. This was exciting and all, but it was the bolts that went with the crossbow that really made me eager for a good Decepticon (not Buzzsaw) to try them out on. They were each labeled _"Danger! Use only in case of emergency! Keep out of reach of Cybertronians!"_ It was kind of like those "Keep out of reach of small children" warnings on sharp objects and certain medications. I had to laugh. I couldn't tell if the person who had labeled the crossbow bolts had meant the warning to be taken seriously, or if he or she had meant to be funny. There were also a lot of other explosives to keep the knife and crossbow company.

"For large groups of enemy Transformers," I read out loud. Well, what do you know? The grenades were labeled, too! "Decepticon-seeking, Autobot-seeking, localized devastation. Wow, Buzzsaw!" I exclaimed happily. "Where did you get this?"

"What, the bombs? Those are Caryn's special recipes. That was her tool bag, and she got it from the Cytoplasm," he told me. I stared at the worn bag in my hands. Was this what he had meant when he said I was the Cytoplasm's heir? That I would inherit her tools from Caryn? Apparently, Buzzsaw was trying to tell me something, because he was definitely trying to get my attention. To do that, the dumb bird folded one wing, half-falling through the air. I yelped in surprise and seized one of the grooves in his armor.

"What the slagging, fragging, Inferno do you want, scrapheap?" I yelled. Buzzsaw was gliding now, clam and distant. We were not so distant, however, from the vehicles that were the Autobots in their alternate modes. They had been tossed all over the slagging place by the explosion, the exact location of which was readily visible: a smoking crater in the otherwise flat area. "Oh, slag it all." They were also surrounded by hulking, humanoid robots, each about thirty feet tall – some more, none less. I knew then, without a doubt, that these were Decepticons.

"Choose, Carma, quickly!" Buzzsaw urged me. There was no choice, not really. I snatched a handful of the tiny, high-powered, Decepticon-seeking grenades.

"All right, Buzzsaw, we're going in," I said nervously. Would the grenades really only hurt the Decepticons, as I thought they would (I mean, how much more crystal clear can you possibly get?)? I could not think about it anymore, though, because right then Buzzsaw let out a very hawk like screech. He pulled up, back winging fiercely, and then pointed his beak earthward and plunged. I gripped the grooves in his armor tightly with one hand and the grenades with the other.

"Now!" he called voice shrill with anticipation. I tossed my handful of portable Decepticon-Away explosives. An instant later, Buzzsaw was wheeling away and angling into the sky once more. Distantly, I heard the distinct whine of mechanisms working furiously, the several painful sounding thumps. This was followed by quite a few miniature explosions – more of them than I had expected, actually. Shouts of pain (and several cuss words) told me I had hit someone down there. Buzzsaw came around easily in the air and hovered for a moment to give me a good look at the effect of the Decepticon seeking grenades.

Well. I have to say, the sight was really very gratifying. Every last Decepticon was running away, screaming their metal-coated heads off. Wait, no, make that every last Decepticon who hadn't been knocked off line by the explosions was running away, screaming their metal-coated heads off as they went. I bared my teeth in a fierce grin.

"Come on, Buzzsaw, let's get closer," I suggested, my wild grin still in place. As we neared the site of the original explosion, I saw that none of the Autobots had Transformed out of vehicle mode. Buzzsaw eased us lower, and then landed next to what appeared to be some sort of incredibly beat up ambulance.

"Sheesh. They really brought him. I thought they would leave the old slagger at home," he whistled. "Carma, meet Ratchet, the Autobot chief medic."

"Um, I think Ratchet has a slight problem," I told my golden companion uncertainly. "He has some sort of field around him." I racked my brain, trying to figure this out. Obviously the field – whatever it was – was preventing him from going back to root mode.

"I think there might be some Cybertronian diagnostic equipment in your tool bag," the bird chirped helpfully. I flipped open the flap of my bag and rummaged through until I found a tool I didn't know. It looked kind of like a battery tester.

"Is this it?"

"Yep, that would be it!" Buzzsaw confirmed. I eyed the thing suspiciously, then took the prongs and carefully touched them to the ambulance's side. A screen on the meter part sprang to life as I did so. _Anti-Transformation Ray_ scrolled across it. _Jump pulse will reverse._

"Jump Pulse?" I repeated.

"Oh, that's just where another Cybertronian – a Transforming one – would connect his processor and give the old guy a jump start," Buzzsaw explained dismissively. "Is that what the solution is?" He peered over my shoulder to see for himself.

"Yep. That's what it says. Good thing Wheeljack's still up on the cliff; we can use him," I reminded my avian companion. He nodded his bird like head vigorously. I guess he wasn't happy about the other option: we merge HIS processor with an Autobot's. He didn't need to know that if we hadn't had a functioning Autobot on hand, I would definitely have used him to cure these guys. "Well, Buzzsaw, would you go and invite Wheeljack down here?"

"All right," he agreed uneasily.

"Oh, relax! Wheeljack's not going to shoot you out of the sky!" I pointed out. Buzzsaw muttered something like, _"In theory,"_ then took off toward the cliff.

_Lynn Jones_


	3. Chapter 3

3

Karma

**Chapter 3**

**Trust**

"You can NOT be serious!" Wheeljack gasped. I swear, I wanted to try out the Autobot seeking grenades. I ground my teeth together to stop myself from cussing at him or reaching for those grenades.

"And why ever in the name of the Matrix not?" I demanded after a moment, when I was sure I wouldn't say something horrible to him.

"Why in the Inferno would I let the Cytoplasm's spawn of a glitch heir and protégé slag around in my head?" the Autobot countered angrily. I winced at his words and tone, bit my lip, and finally, (with a tremendous effort, I might add) I backed away. Buzzsaw wasn't going to lie down and take it so easily, though.

"Don't you talk about her like that, Autobot! You have no right! Maybe the Cytoplasm did some bad things, but Caryn….Well, Caryn only wanted to control her own life! Spike and Jazz were man and bot enough to see that, and they forgave her. So why are you holding a grudge? You hardly knew her!" Buzzsaw ranted. Wheeljack seemed taken aback by the golden bird's outburst.

"Do NOT change the subject! I am NOT letting that thing slag around in my head, and that is…that is…oh." I swear, the towering Autobot just collapsed for no reason. At least, no reason that I could see, until he landed flat on his face, with his huge gray back slashed wide open. Apparently, Buzzsaw had seen marks like these (they looked like cat scratches) before, and knew who made them.

"Ravage, you scheming, rotten spawn of a glitch! What in the name of Primus have you DONE?" Buzzsaw shrieked. I think he came very close to permanently damaging my ear drum. At his words, though, a sleek, black-armored, robotic jaguar slunk toward us.

"Nice to see you, too, after so many decades, Buzzsaw. As for what I did, well, I've always hated Wheeljack. I was simply expressing my feelings. And when did you start swearing in Primus's name?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Ravage shrugged and began to turn away. I couldn't help it; I growled, then pulled out my crossbow and fitted a _Keep out of reach of Cybertronians_ bolt to it. I took aim.

"Oh, yeah?" I snarled. "Then express THIS, glitch!" I spat. Ravage spun around, but he was too late. I released to bolt, and it punched right through his black neck armor. He wailed as it began to smolder. In seconds, the whole thing was burning – including his circuits. The jaguar Decepticon tries to run, only to drop like a rock.

"What the slag are you doing, Carma?" a half-familiar voice gasped. I spun around (I was really getting tired of people sneaking up behind me, by the way). Daniel was standing beside the prone hunk of scrap metal that was Wheeljack. He looked a little impressed.

"I'm just telling this Decepticreep to get his fragging skidplate back in to whatever Primus-forsaken black hole he slagging came out of!" I answered fiercely, taking Daniel by surprise. I glared at Ravage's whimpering form on the ground, and felt a stab of pity. I shoved it aside; I could not afford to feel sorry for a Decepticon. I couldn't.

"Well, Carma, it looks like he won't be going anywhere, no matter how much he wants to go on a quest for a suitable black hole to crawl into and die," the boy pointed out wryly. I surveyed the still whimpering Ravage critically. I had to agree with the boy.

"Yeah, I suppose I could have skipped the flaming part. I regular bolt would have done just fine," I agreed. "Oh, well, my bad." I turned away from the jaguar and focused on Wheeljack.

"Aw, slag. He looks like he just went about ten rounds with the Reapers – and then tried to start an eleventh," Buzzsaw commented. I shook my head at the damage to his back. Daniel snorted.

"Ten rounds with a butcher knife, maybe. Maybe even that eleventh round – yeah, I'll give you eleven rounds, but not with the Reapers – that's a little much, don't you think?" Daniel argued. I sighed heavily and ignored them with difficulty. I could see a strong pattern of conflict forming, and I had to get in some practice with dealing with it. (Just so you know, that's a fancy way of saying that I could see those two would probably be arguing a lot, so I was trying to make the best of it).

I knelt on Wheeljack's back, next to the biggest of the eight gashes in his armor. I didn't need the battery tester turned diagnostic equipment to tell me what was wrong with the inventor. His back was sliced open, for Primus's sake! It looked like some of the connections to the rest of his body had been severed.

Besides that, the stupid Autobot slagger had gotten dirt in his wounds somehow. I hissed a few angry curses that would have made Buzzsaw flinch if he heard them, and then got to work. My computer cleaning supplies (gifts from Caryn) worked just as well on an injured Cybertronian's circuits as they did on malfunctioning human computers. Once I had cleared all the debris away from and out of the damaged area, I began to carefully reconnect wires and rebind armor. It was still weak, and would be until he got proper Cybertronian medical attention, but it was a slag of a lot better than having open wounds.

Buzzsaw and Daniel were still going at each other loudly in the background, their angry shouts punctuated by Ravage's increasingly faint cries. Those got under my skin worse than anything I could have anticipated. At last, I just couldn't take it anymore. I snatched up my tool bag and stalked over to the bawling feline. With a snarl, I yanked the crossbow bolt out of his neck (it had stopped smoldering a while ago, and had cooled off almost completely). I doused the lingering flames in his circuits and hurriedly filled the wound with a fast bonding foam. Distantly, I realized that the arguing had stopped. I turned away from Ravage to see that both argues were staring at me, slack jawed.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? The noise was driving me crazy, that's all!" I told them indignantly.

"Um, well, you just saved a Decepticon," Daniel stated numbly. I scowled at him. Boy, he was getting on my nerves.

"So what? The slagger was hurting bad, and it was my fault. Therefore, it was my job to put it right." Neither of them looked convinced. In fact, they looked so alike in that instant that I almost laughed out loud. Instead, I sighed (again) and waved it away. "Forget it. Let's just get Wheeljack booted up. If he's willing, we can get a nice jump pulse going and bring these others back to the land of moving parts."

"All right, Carma, but what in the slagging Inferno are we supposed to do with Ravage?" Buzzsaw asked. I shot a glance at the Decepticon, who hadn't moved from where I had left him.

"He probably won't be going anywhere for a while," I responded. I thought for a moment, then added, "And even if he does, he'll just scamper back to his master with his tail tucked between his legs." As if to prove me wrong, however, Ravage struggled to sit up, managed it, and even managed to stand. He then proceeded to wobble around behind me like a puppy while I busied myself with setting up the jump pulse. At last, it was ready.

"All right. Daniel, would you wake Wheeljack up, please? And tell him that if I can't use his processor for this, I can use Buzzsaw's," I added pointedly. Buzzsaw shuddered at that.

"Hurry," he urged Daniel.

"All right! Fine! Now quit nagging!" the boy finally snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. He strode angrily over to the still unconscious Autobot and kicked his shoulder. "Come on, 'Jack. Up you get!" With a groan, Wheeljack stirred, but he didn't get up. Buzzsaw as now afraid I would really hook him up to the Autobots. He did the logical thing, of course. He panicked.

"Oh, for Primus's sake, get UP, you metal-headed oaf! Get up, slagger, or I'll slag you!" Buzzsaw screeched. Wheeljack still didn't move. I guess he was out more completely than I had anticipated.

"Oh, wake up, you Primus-forsaken scrap heap," I muttered. Daniel kicked him again, and this time, Wheeljack managed to sit up.

"Ow…what happened? My back…" Wheeljack trailed off as he tried to stand up. He stopped that with a yell as said back loudly – and painfully, I imagine – protested this movement. I smirked.

"Oh, lay down. You don't need to stand to be the host of a jump pulse," Buzzsaw chided. The rest of us ignored him.

"Wheeljack, you never said if you would do the jump pulse or not. Will you please? We are totally sitting slagging ducks out here, and so are your friends." Then I got an idea. "I could just tell Daniel what to do if you want, and he can hook everything up." I figured it was almost like a compromise.

"I can see you aren't going to take 'no' for an answer, no matter how many times I give it," the inventor sighed. Then he grumbled, "Fine. But if I come out of this with so much as a single circuit out of place…"

Well, I suppose that it was kind of a good thing that Wheeljack left that threat with an open end. It was an empty threat, anyway. Even I, who had almost no actual experience with Cybertronians, knew that no Autobot would hurt a human on purpose. It simply went against their 'protect weaker creatures' natures. I think their CPUs might overload if they ever did.

The link up went without a hitch, and soon every last one of the cars had been replaced by a dazed, twenty foot tall robot that appeared to be of alien origin. They were the Autobots.

"oh, my achin' head…" an old-looking red one grumbled. He appeared to have somehow run into a large rock formation when he was thrown by the explosion. One of the others – with forest green armor that mysteriously resembled Jeep parts and a gray missile launcher on one shoulder – was still sprawled on the ground. A red and white guy (who I think used to be an ambulance) was bent over him. I was really curious, so I darted over to investigate.

"Oh, for the love of Primus, would you relax, Hound?" Ratchet was growling dangerously. "You just got a little tiny bit of shrapnel in your arm! That is not a life-threatening injury! I'll have you back on your feet in no time!"

"Ratchet?" Uh-oh. A big red and blue Autobot was coming over. I ducked behind Hound's missile launcher to listen in. I think he was Optimus Prime, the Autobot leader. He must have been someone important, anyway, because Ratchet straightened up to salute him.

"Optimus! What can I do for you?" the medic asked. Score a point for me; I was right. I wondered what Prime was going to ask Ratchet for.

"Well, Ratchet, I was just wondering if you have seen any strange things today…like humans, for example," he said. His tone was kind of light, almost cheerful, but I had a feeling that it was all a show. Something in his half-covered face plates told me he was mad about something.

"Well, I've seen Daniel. He's right over there…," Ratchet added, pointing in the direction of the boy, who was sitting next to Wheeljack a few yards away. They were talking about something serious, from their expressions.

"Yes, I have seen Daniel today, too. Have you seen any other humans today?" Prime asked. He was slightly less cheerful this time. Ratchet's gray face remained blank. He had not seen me after all. I decided to take the heat off of the old medic; all that stress couldn't be good for his systems.

"You mean strange humans like me?" I asked, leaping up to perch on Hound's missile launcher. Wow. I had not expected them to startle like that; I had not known they could. I don't think the shock was good for their systems, either.

"Uh…um…yes. Yes, very much like you, I think. That is, if you are… I mean, are you Carma?" Optimus stammered. I nodded, hiding my smile at how off-guard he was.

"yes, that would probably be me. Can I help you with something?" I wanted to know. Hmmm. Maybe both of the Autobots had been hit with another one of those freezing rays or whatever, because they certainly weren't moving much. "Hello? Earth to the Autobots!" I called.

Whatever half thought out, startled responses they might have made to my wake-up call were cut off as Ravage paced up and stood on the ground beside my perch on Hound's missile launcher, growling. No sooner had the bigger Transformers seen him, though, then they had blasters out (yes, even the medic!) and aimed at the Decepticon.

"Oh, grow up, you overgrown toddlers!" I snapped, distracting them from Ravage. "Leave him alone; he's not hurting you or anyone you know. In fact, he's the one who's hurt, and he can barely walk. Ravage is absolutely not threat to you right now. Now put those away before you shoot someone!" To my surprise, the Autobots did just that, obeying quickly.

"Carma! There you are! Are you all right? Those oafs didn't hurt you or anything, did they?" Buzzsaw demanded as he landed beside me. He barely glanced at Ravage.

"No, I'm good. Do you have my bag, Buzzsaw?" I asked. Then I saw that he had my tool bag in one talon. In response to my question, he did that head-toss eye-roll thing.

"Of course."

"Now, Autobots, I came here to help you. I think I have proven my worth several times over," I pointed out. I saw them hesitate, and knew that they were thinking about the Cytoplasm.

"How in the name of Primus are we supposed to know whether to trust you or not?" another Autobot asked, coming up behind Optimus. I glanced at him, identified him as Prowl, a security officer from his police cruiser decal, and promptly dismissed him. He was supposed to be suspicious; that was plainly written in his contract with the Autobots (probably). He would be suspicious until Optimus or one of his superiors told him not to be. So I focused on Prime, gathered my courage, and gave them an honest answer.

"You don't. I could be working for the Decepticons, or I could have made it my life's mission to wipe all Cybertronians off the face off the Earth in order to permanently end your war for you. Or I could be just what I claim to be: a human who wants to help." I stared up into Optimus's glowing blue optics, willing him to believe me. "But you can't know. You cannot make an accurate judgment unless you take the time and risk of getting to know me. That means talking to me, letting me get to know you. I know it's a risk. IN fact, I know it's a huge risk to take, especially after the Cytoplasm," I conceded. As I continued, I realized that my tone had grown defiant. "So, Optimus Prime, it would seem you have a choice to make. Are you willing to take a risk, or not?" The red and blue Autobot hesitated. When he spoke, though, his voice was firm and held no trace of uncertainty.

"Bring her," he told Prowl. "You can question her on the way back to base." I thought Prowl would object, but he didn't - not in the way I had expected, at least. Optimus turned to go, but Prowl called him back.

"What about the Decepticon cassettes?" he demanded in a slightly panicky undertone. Prime sighed, and then regarded Ravage and Buzzsaw for a moment in turn.

"It's your call, Prowl," he decided at last. Then he was gone, more than likely trying to get away from me under the guise of preparing other Autobots for the trip back to their base.

And that is how I ended up engaged in a staring contest with a twenty foot tall alien robot that spent a lot of his spare time as a police car, cruising the streets and probably spying on the human race. Let's get back to the staring contest thing, though. The hardest part was, well, the fact that ROBOTS DO NOT BLINK. This wonderful fact made a staring contest with said robot…difficult, to say the least of it. Finally, I knew I would have to say something, or I would lose my staring contest.

"Balance, Prowl," I said softly. Oh, and just for the record, I had no idea what I was saying right then, or where I had gotten it from. I mean, I don't know how I managed to form the words into coherent sentences, let alone why I was saying this to him, as if I had to justify myself. It made sense to me, though. The whole balance thing, I mean. It was almost like everything I did or was planning to do was to balance out what the Cytoplasm did or had planned to do. It was like my whole life now was to counter hers. And Prowl thought I wanted power!

"What was that?" the Autobot asked, clearly just as startled as I was on the inside.

"Balance. I want balance, not power," I repeated. Okay, I admit it; if I had been in Prowl's big metal shoes right then, I would have been a little freaked out, too. Lucky for me, however, I was not in Prowl's boots right then, so I could tease him a little bit. "Balance. B-a-l-a-n-c-e. _Balance_," I repeated slowly.

I don't know if he actually understood or not, but he did let Ravage and Buzzsaw come.


	4. Chapter 4

3

Karma

**Chapter 4**

**Cave**

"So that's why we couldn't find them!" Buzzsaw realized as we approached the low (relatively) mountain. An old mine entrance was just barely visible on the slopes. "We never thought that they would be using a cave!" I nodded for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"I did not think that such enormous beings would be able to stand living in a cave without going insane – or at least becoming claustrophobic," I admitted with a wry grin.

"Normally, you would be right," Prowl agreed, sounding amused. "But this particular cavern is…special. I think you will understand once you see it." Oh, yes, my cassettes (Buzzsaw and Ravage, in case you have miraculously forgotten) and I were all piled uncomfortably into the cramped interior of Prowl's police cruiser alternate mode. We had just entered a long, dark tunnel in the side of an isolated mountain. I suspect that it was really an abandoned mine shaft, from the tracks on the floor. I could barely see them in the light of Prowl's headlights. "Just a moment," he assured us.

"Exactly how long is a moment?" Ravage grumbled as the shadows closed in tight around us. For someone who loved to slink around at night and had a reputation for prowling in the safety of the shadows, Ravage sounded awfully nervous about being in the pitch blackness of the tunnel for too long.

"Hang on; we're almost there!" I murmured, trying to encourage him. Ravage's eyes narrowed until they were just thin slits of red light glowing faintly in the darkness.

"And how in the name of Primus do you know that?" he demanded. He voice shook just a little.

"Well, I do have psychic powers," I joked. "No, really, it's getting lighter," I explained calmly. And it was, by Primus! Before anyone could formulate a reply, we emerged from the tunnel. Blinking rapidly to adjust my eyes, I thought at first that I wasn't really seeing this. Then I realized that I was.

Ahead were a huge arch and a track that we bumped over like a set of speed bumps. The arch we went under, and approached a tall gray tower that loomed over everything. No, wait, it wasn't a tower, it was a launch pad with a slender rocket ship on it. Around the base of the structure was a scattering of makeshift tables and berths that filled the area between the oval shaped track and the launch pad on all sides.

"Wow," Buzzsaw whistled in awe. "Omega Supreme is here? No wonder you were staying hidden. And is that…"

"More gestalts," I breathed, seeing what had caught Buzzsaw's attention. There were high grid work support frames – two of them. Inside each was the skeleton of an enormous hulking robot, made of five smaller Transformers. "Because the Decepticons were planning to make more, before the canyon."

"They were," Prowl agreed, "but we never did find out exactly how many. Which is why I consented to allow you into our base, Decepticon," he added. Ravage stiffened in rage.

"I will not betray my brothers, no matter what," he hissed. Prowl didn't answer right away. I reached out and laid a hand on Ravage's sleek metal shoulder.

"No one is going to make you," I reassured him softly. Prowl started to say something, but I stopped him by kicking him – hard. I just shot out a foot and kicked the dashboard as hard as I could. Then I changed the subject. "Now where are we going, Prowl?"

"We have to have all of the security officers meet you, so we go to the command center. Right now, that is located inside the launch pad control complex," he answered warily. Ooh, I was ready to jump for joy at that. Not. I wasn't looking forward to being interrogated by more suspicious and antagonistic Transformers AT ALL. Even if they were Autobots. Maybe especially if they were Autobots. Still, I would never achieve balance by avoiding questions. Please don't ask me where that thought came from, because I have absolutely no idea. If you have a theory, please let me know. Anyway, a thundering voice shook the ground as we neared the launch pad.

"I am Omega Supreme. Who seeks entry to my depths?" it boomed. Good thing Prowl had good shock absorbers, because I think the earth did a little jig when whatever it was spoke. I gulped. The cassettes were glancing around nervously, but Prowl seemed completely at ease. I suppose he was used to seemingly inanimate object such as LAUNCH PADS shouting at him without warning.

"Omega, you know me. I am Prowl, Autobot security officer. I am bringing the human, Carma, and her companions, Buzzsaw and Ravage, for questioning," the Autobot called back. He was the very definition of calm. With a rumble, a door that had been almost invisible until that moment opened in the smooth gray metal of the wall before us.

"You may enter, Prowl, and bring your companions with you," Omega Supreme bellowed. Prowl drove right up to, then through, the door. It closed automatically behind us. Prowl Transformed and I ended up on my rear on the ground. Buzzsaw was next to me, shaking his head to clear it. I looked around the dim room for Ravage. I finally located him, suspended in the air by the scruff of the neck by Prowl's large fingers. He was limp, and whimpered in agony.

"Stop it, Prowl! Put him down! He neck is hurt, you barbarian!" I snapped. I glared at the officer until he sighed and lowered Ravage to the ground. I am not entirely sure how he saw my scowl in the darkness. Maybe he had a night vision upgrade in his optics.

"If you keep saying stuff like that on a regular basis, I might begin to wonder about you," he warned me. I rolled my eyes and hoped that he really could see my expression, so he would notice the lack of fear or apprehension in my face.

"You do that. I'll tell you what I told Daniel, Prowl. That wound in his neck was my fault. That means that it falls to me to put it right, before something awful happens. If I had left him, he would have died. I could not have allowed that, because a death can never be balanced out," I said.

"Well stated, human," someone hidden by the darkness told me. The lights in the chamber winked to life, and I was able to take in my surroundings at last. We were in the center of an enormous chamber with rounded, cold gray walls. It was lined with Transformers. The red marks on their armor marked them as Autobots. The one who had spoken was red and white, like one of those fire department cars. On his left was what appeared to be a fire truck's cab with arms and legs. One the red and white one's right was another police car guy, then a blue and yellow one.

"Thanks, I guess. Might I ask who in the name of Primus you all are?" I swear I saw more than one of them smile.

"I am Red Alert," the red and white one told me. "On my left is Inferno. One my right is Siren. And that's our local detective, Nightbeat." I forced a smile and nodded to each one of them.

"My name is Carma. I assume you know Ravage, and maybe Buzzsaw?" I double checked. Red Alert nodded.

"Yeah, we know them. What we want to know is why they are with you," Nightbeat put in, voice even. I turned a little to face him.

"Buzzsaw's protection and service were a large part of my inheritance from Caryn when she died recently. Ravage is only with me until balance is restored," I announced. "Or as long as he wants to be." And that is how my interrogation began.

It took a while, but eventually they were satisfied that I was NOT planning to blow them or their lovely gray base sky high. Once this was established, they decided that I may as well make myself useful and infiltrate the Decepticon base. I know, right? One minute they don't trust me and want to get rid of me as soon as they possibly can manage it. The next, they want to send me on a highly dangerous mission. I guess it had something to do with my recent 'balance' obsession, and how the Cytoplasm had infiltrated them at the request of Megatron in the past.

"Balance. I have to put right what the Cytoplasm put wrong," I murmured. I understood; really, I did. The only thing I didn't quite understand was why it seemed like I was the only one who could fix this.

"Carma?" Buzzsaw whispered.

"Yeah?" I answered. I glanced around at my companions: Buzzsaw, Ravage, and a fierce looking Autobot called Jazz. The name stirred a memory in the very back of my head, but I couldn't quite put my finger on the reason…or the memory. It remained in the back of my head as though tied there, refusing to come forward. I couldn't help but think that it was important.

"You said…back on the cliff, you said that you wanted answers. I think that it would be best if I gave them to you now – before this mission," Buzzsaw informed me solemnly. I didn't slow down or look at him; I just continued on down the hall, wrestling with myself. Did I really want him to tell me what I already suspected – what so many people had told me?

"Ever since I first met them, the Autobots have referred to Caryn and the Cytoplasm as the same person. They have been acting like Caryn, the Cytoplasm, whatever they called her, was totally evil, like she never did a single good thing," I said out loud. I could almost feel Buzzsaw's regret and reluctance, his sorrow, as he responded.

"Carma…I am afraid that it's true. Caryn and the Cytoplasm were the same person. She came to her senses, realized what she had done, and tried to fix it. That's the real story behind Rockslide Canyon." He was trying to soften this. I could tell. I shook my head.

"Buzzsaw, stop. I know the stories just as well as you do – better than almost anyone else, in fact. I had kind of figured it out. I didn't want to believe it, but deep down, I did. Thank you for telling me yourself, though. I know that people can change. The Caryn I knew was not the Cytoplasm. I am going to balance out what she did for the Decepticons. I know I might not be able to fix this all the way, but I can try," I insisted. "That's why I agreed to this mission." Buzzsaw eyed me thoughtfully for a long moment.

"You know what? I think Caryn saw this in you somehow. That is why she gave you the name that she did, Carma. It is a variation of Karma, the name of the Great Balance. You _are_ balance, it dwells in your very spirit. You seek it with everything in you, you long for it with every fiber of your being. I know that you can achieve it. I will be at your side when you do," Buzzsaw pledged. For some mysterious, unfathomable reason, my eyes went all misty and wet.

"Thanks," I mumbled. I swiped a hand over my face, and then took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I straightened, stiffening my spine. "I need my bag." Ravage padded forward, my tool and weapons bags held carefully in his powerful black metal jaws. I took it from him, smiling.

"I will not betray my brothers the Decepticons, but I will fulfill my duty and see you through this mission in one piece," the jaguar vowed, red eyes holding my own for a long moment. Slag it all! My eyes were all foggy again. I really hoped this was not going to become a habit of mine.

"Thanks," I repeated. It didn't seem like it was enough to really say what I wanted to say. I think they understood anyway. I hope they did, in any case. Daniel interrupted us right about then, so I never did find out.

"Carma? Is this a bad time?" he asked warily. Buzzsaw thought it was, and glared at the boy. I shook my head, so he didn't see my companion's expression. I figured that was best.

"No, it's fine. Do you need something?" I inquired quickly. He grinned, and I groaned inwardly. This was going to be painful, I could tell.

"My family wanted to meet you – in case the Decepticreeps try to pull something. We need to know what to look for to get you back," he told me. "And they heard about what you did to that old turkey earlier," he added.

"Old turkey?" I echoed. Buzzsaw bristled. Uh-oh.

"Yeah. That's what they called Laserbeak."

"Laserbeak is NOT an 'old turkey', squishy!" he nearly shrieked. I rolled my eyes.

"He didn't mean that. Lead the way, Daniel," I urged hurriedly. Buzzsaw and Ravage followed on my heels. After a moment, Jazz did, too. We walked for several minutes before we reached the cavern wall. There was a much smaller tunnel in the wall, and this is where we were going. As we entered the tunnel, I glanced into a small room and noticed all the technical drawings papering the walls. I took a detour.

These sketches were obviously drawn by a skilled human designer. There were gestalt plans, weapons, cities with detailed defenses, armor upgrades, and diagrams for better tools, and notes about various projects… but that isn't what stunned me. No, I gasped at what was scrawled across the bottom of one of the sheets:

_City cannot become Transformer. Transformer must become city. Die-cast construction highly recommended._

_Caryn_

These were _her_ plans, definitely. That was her signature, her angle of viewing projects. I touched a drawing of a gestalt. The joints were marked 'weak', and 'improve at first opportunity'. It was _her_ drawing.

"Oh, man! Jazz is going to KILL me! Not to mention those Decepticreeps! I had my back to her! They were watching her, not me! How is it MY fault they lost her?" Daniel's voice complained. I turned to see the boy hurrying past, down the tunnel.

"Daniel? What's wrong?" I called. He skidded to a stop, then dashed into the room, panting.

"What's wrong? What's _wrong?_ Is that all you can say? Jazz really might kill me if you get lost! Come _on,_ everyone's waiting for you!" he yelled, dashing out again. I sighed and followed more slowly. Soon I came to a larger, more open chamber in the rock tunnel.

"Danny, there you are! Where was she?" an older man with short, retreating brown hair asked.

"Oh, she was just in an old work room," he answered vaguely. I bared my teeth. He didn't even want to admit that it was an old work room full of Caryn's sketches!

"I saw a lot of interesting drawings…made by and commented on by Caryn," I told them, watching for their reactions. There was an elderly couple (Spike and his wife, Carly), a middle-aged couple (Spike's son, Sam, and _his_ wife), and Daniel.

"I hear she adopted you, raised you," Spike said softly. I nodded, though I was loath to part with any information – even information they already knew.

"She was the only family I ever had. And then I come here, and everyone tells me she was evil, that her every thought went toward the Autobots' destruction." My voice hardened. Even if that wasn't necessarily completely true. It was still partly true. It seemed that my words caused a bit of a shock to the oldest Witwickys.

"NO, that's not true. She just wasn't exactly like the Autobot ideal. She was a lot like the better Decepticons. Even they didn't realize it, but she was, in the way she thought," Spike corrected. I was inwardly relieved. Someone believed me! Caryn wasn't evil!

"Carma!" someone shouted. I turned around slowly, recognizing the voice. Jazz, Ravage, and Buzzsaw were standing in the doorway. Buzzsaw looked like he might just collapse on the spot. Poor bird. I hurried over to him.

"What?" I asked, stroking Buzzsaw's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Why are you guys so freaked out? It's not like I disappeared or anything. You guys were right there!"

"You did, too, disappear!" Jazz informed me sharply. "These two were beside themselves with worry – kind of weird for Decepticons, that," he added. I noted the lingering panic and relief in the Autobot's own expression, and figured that Jazz had been a little 'beside himself', too. And that was a mystery. He was just assigner to me by Prime; why should he panic if I 'disappeared' for a minute or two? I hardly knew Jazz. In fact, I didn't know him at all. This was the first time I had ever seen him, let alone talked to him.

"Look, I just stopped for a second to check out a work room. I'm fine. Really. Now, let's have our little chat with the Witwickys, and then be on our way," I suggested pointedly, turning back to the other people in the room. They seemed a little bit uncomfortable with all of this.

"So, Carma, how are you enjoying being with the Autobots?" Sam inquired awkwardly. I think he was just trying to fill the uneasy silence. I smiled, though, appreciating his effort.

"I sincerely doubt that I am 'enjoying' them as much as they are 'enjoying' me," I commented dryly. That finally seemed to break the silence, and earned me a few answering smiles around the room. It also got me a frown from Jazz. "Still, I am a little nervous about this missions that they're sending me on," I admitted.

"Oh, don't worry about it so much! All you have to do is get into Decepticon headquarters, find some facts about their plans, and get out," Daniel reminded me, as though trying to reassure me. It didn't work.

"It's the 'get into Decepticon headquarters' part I'm nervous about," I responded honestly. "I have some idea about what I will have to say to them to get them to trust me – or even just not kill me right away – and let me tell you, it won't be pretty." There were nods all around when I said that. Before anyone could say anything else, though, an alarm sounded.

"Decepticons sighted," Omega Supreme boomed. "Prepare defenses. Prepare for counter attack. Autobots, prepare!" I sighed, and then climbed on Buzzsaw's back.

"Looks like its show time," I muttered. Buzzsaw crouched, preparing for takeoff. Jazz stepped up, stopping him.

"Just make sure that this stays a show," he pleaded before stepping back. I met his blue optics solemnly for a moment, then tried to lighten the mood.

"What? Are you afraid I might enjoy being a faker more than being here?" I joked. No one smiled. From the expressions on the faces all around me, that was exactly what they were afraid of, and that was not comforting in the least. I sighed again and urged Buzzsaw to take off. Ravage raced beneath us as we soared out of the cavern and into the sky.

I was SO not looking forward to this.

_Lynn Jones_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Trypticon**

We floated above the skirmish, only observers for the moment. Unfortunately, Decepticon reinforcements had arrived, and now this conflict couldn't really be called a skirmish anymore. This was a full-blown battle. My stomach clenched painfully. It was not because of the battle itself, not really. I was ready for the fighting. It was the thought of the other thing I was about to do. I was playing a deadly game with lethal opponents, and I barely knew the rules. I was trying to deceive being who thought with machinelike clarity. I was out to deceive the very masters of deception.

"All right, here we go!" Buzzsaw shreed. "Are you sure you're ready for this, Carma?" he added when I didn't answer right away. I bit my lip nervously, and then nodded sharply.

"Let's do this," I said firmly.

"Get those stun bombs out, then. We're going in!" he announced. I crouched low on my friend's metal back, nearly shaking with tension. I carefully held a stun-strength cluster bomb in one hand. Well, it was stun-strength for a Transformer. I was willing to bet that it would kill any human foolish enough to be very close to that kind of explosion. With my other hand, I gripped the feather-like grooves on Buzzsaw's armor. I couldn't believe that I was about to betray the Autobots – even if it was a planned (or rather staged) betrayal, and completely fake. It still felt…wrong. Unbalanced, I guess.

Buzzsaw was oblivious to my panicked thoughts. He began spiraling downward, heading straight for the battle below. I held the stun bomb at the ready, my hand damp with nerves. _Just a little lower,_ I thought nervously. _A little lower…NOW!_ I forced my fingers to release the weapon. It fell toward the warring Transformers below.

"Carma! Incoming!" Buzzsaw shrieked. I looked around wildly, trying to see where the threat was. I glanced up. There. Laserbeak was diving toward us, the laser beams in his eyes glowing, preparing to fire. I tensed; tightening my grip on Buzzsaw's back, then slowly stood. I set my feet carefully, braced myself for the crazy stunt I was planning, aimed, and then jumped.

_Perfect!_ I cheered inwardly as I landed neatly on Laserbeak's back, right between his wing joints, balanced on his shoulders.

"Hey!" Laserbeak squawked, outraged. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hello," I greeted my new ride. "Thanks for that last-minute seating transfer. I really appreciate it, you know," I told the red Decepticon avian. He screeched and dove into a barrel roll, trying to throw me off, but I wasn't going to have any of that. I drew the knife from my weapons bag and slashed a feather-shaped decoration off of his armor. He shrieked in pain and leveled out. "That's better. Now dive, birdbrain!" I ordered. Laserbeak squawked wordlessly and dove. I pulled out and released another handful of concussion bombs. "Pull up!" The bird obeyed, still protesting loudly. "Now bank left. Let's have a nice, easy decent, shall we, Laserbeak? I wouldn't want to damage you; it might look bad on my résumé," I told him firmly. The red bird finally shut up and pulled around to land lightly in front of a huge white robot with gray accents and glowing red eyes.

"Laserbeak, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded, crimson optics flashing angrily. The birdbrain remained perfectly still, not daring to move lest I take off a more vital piece of him. "What it that on your back?"

"Lord Megatron, she landed on my back while I was surveying the enemy positions," the smaller Decepticon whispered, still not moving. "Then she tried to order me around. I tried to throw her off, and she sliced part of my armor off! I couldn't do anything but what she said!" I slid to the ground, and Buzzsaw landed beside me.

"What in the name of Primus possessed you to jump off my back?" he hissed in my ear. I shrugged and approached Megatron. Buzzsaw squawked and leaped forward after me.

"How…cute," one of them commented. His armor shone red, blue, and white. He had a slim laser cannon on each arm, and huge gray and red wings. "_This_ human comes with her own bodyguard."

"Shut up or I'll slice your wings off, steamhead," I snapped, flashing my knife. Then I remembered the crossbow and reconsidered. "Or maybe I'll just shoot you with a flaming bolt," I added. "You can ask Ravage how that feels." As if my words had summoned the black feline, he galloped to my side and stared up at the Decepticons defiantly.

"Really? Well, this one's got an attitude. Can I step on her, Lord Megatron?" the winged one begged. A taller, blue and white Transformer came up on Megatron's right.

"You'd have an attitude, too, if you'd spent as long as I have stuck in the same place as those slagging, scrap-licking Autobots and their Inferno of a base," I retorted. This was my gamble. If the Decepticons accepted my bad-mouthing of their enemies – and my secret allies – then I was relatively safe. If they found out I was playing them, then I was dead. I held my breath, waiting for their response. The tall white one – Megatron – laughed. He threw back his helmeted head and laughed like a maniac.

"She's even worse than the Cytoplasm!" I focused on the Transformer who had spoken. He was much smaller than his fellow Decepticons – only about as tall as a human. He never saw the crossbow bolt coming until it had lodged itself in his metal boot.

"And you're about the most pitiful excuse for a warrior I've ever seen," I replied in a perfectly pleasant tone. "Now go get slagged or something."

"Easy, Carma. You don't want to push them," Buzzsaw warned. Ravage narrowed his eyes at his comrades.

"What is your name, human?" Megatron asked, kneeling so he could see me better. "And aren't you the same one that dropped explosives on us when we ambushed the Autobots?" I met his eyes resolutely. If I was going to do this, I might as well do it right.

"My name is Carma. I am Cytoplasm's heir – with all the rights and privileges of that title," I announced. "And yes, I did drop a few bombs on you – but only by accident, I assure you. I mistook your army for the Autobots; I had never seen one of you before, and it was an easy mistake to make from so far above the ground. Even as I realized my mistake, your forces had retreated. I ended up with the Autobots, and planned to leave them at the first opportunity. I knew they were my best bet to find you." Again, I held my breath, waiting for the giant robot's reaction. Again, he threw his head back and laughed like a possessed maniac.

"Very well, Carma. Come along; we are returning to our base. By the way, Ravage, what happened to your neck?" the leader of the Decepticons asked curiously. I suppressed a grin.

"Carma shot me with a flaming crossbow bolt. Trust me, you do NOT want to go through that," he snarled, lifting a paw to the still-visible wound. "Luckily for me, she realized I was a Decepticon and field-patched it. If she hadn't seen my insignia, I would be a smoldering pile of scrap."

"Ravage, when we return to Decepticon City, you will go and visit Hook in repair bay and get replacement parts," the blue and white one ordered as Megatron stood.

"Yes, Soundwave," the sleek Decepticon answered meekly. I found myself struggling not to smile again.

"Well, we must return to base. Constructicons, I expect you be resuming your projects as soon as you arrive. Your gestalts and your …other project must not be left with lesser robots for long," Megatron announced. "All Decepticons, to the air, and back to base!" They all sprang into the air – me on Buzzsaw's back again – and flew away.

Roughly an hour later, we arrived at our destination. "Decepticon City", as they called it, was huge – the closest thing to a true Cybertronian city I had ever seen – not that I had much experience. It resembled a human settlement from a science fiction movie – the buildings were mostly simple, but a few were very complex, revealing advanced technology in their construction. Of course, there were absolutely no humans except for me in the whole city. I could see, however, an abundance of cracks, seems, and odd mechanisms on the buildings, and even on the street-like passages between the towering structures.

I didn't have time to examine them, but I really wanted to – I needed to know what was going on here. I barely had time to wonder what they were for, much less investigate because Megatron ticked off a whole lot of Decepticons and kept me with him most of the time, along with Soundwave and the cassettes. I received a human sized data pad (and tried not to think about where it had come from) with various plans and blueprints in its memory. I was supposed to become familiar with it while the two robotic behemoths went about their business of running a wartime faction. Honestly, I didn't see the point of the administrative things they did – including what appeared to be the Cybertronian version of paperwork. Still, it gave me time to adjust to my new role, which I was informed of a few hours after coming to Decepticon City.

_So Megatron isn't going to keep me close like some organic pet all the time after all,_ I thought grimly when I heard what he wanted me to do. I was supposed to cover some of Soundwave's former duties, since Megatron was relying on him for administrative roles more. He was too busy to keep an eye on the lower ranks. Since I was smaller and quieter than a Transformer, I was going to be doing that, and basically walking around and reporting Decepticons for everything from laziness, to treachery, to failing to obey orders to their superiors' satisfaction.

I was jolted out of my reverie by the grating sound of a Stunticon's voice. I was on one of my now-frequent hallway patrols, and had to duck into a convenient nook to avoid being spotted; these guys could crush me with their fingertips and not think twice. I was laying low.

"I can't believe how much trust Megatron's putting in a human! He must be insane! That last one, the Cytoplasmic Form, the cassettes called her, betrayed us in the end! She tricked us, betrayed us! How can Megatron ignore that, especially when this one is _her_ spawn?" the Stunticon was complaining. I recognized Motormaster's always-running motor of a mouth, and pressed myself farther into the nook.

"Yeah, we get it, Motormaster, but shouldn't you keep it down? Everyone knows that... that _thing_ is his spy – and don't forget Soundwave's cassettes! One of them could be listening!" another warned. _Wildrider always __was__ paranoid,_I speculated. _And that team should never have been made a gestalt – they can't handle that kind of power!_ I made note of the modifications on their armor that would allow the five of them – Motormaster, Drag Strip, Breakdown, Wildrider, and Dead End – to combine and form Menasor. This one made five gestalt teams so far: Stunticons, Predacons, Constructicons, Combaticons, and those weird Seacons, though thankfully that last bunch was on Cybertron right now, assigned to Shockwave. The Autobots only had three gestalts (Arialbots, Protectobots, and Technobots), and while I was sure they were great fighters and all, they were no match for all the combiners the Deceps had.

"Well, if I ever catch that little squishy thing without our leader or his mindless minion squad…" Motormaster trailed off, somehow cracking his metal knuckles. He didn't need to finish that threat to make his meaning clear. I shivered. Maybe the Autobots were hostile, and they didn't like me very much, but I doubted they were going to stomp me into a Carma-flavor pancake, or smear me along the walls of their base. At least, not to my knowledge…

The Stunticons continued past my hiding place, and I heaved a sigh of relief before making my own way on down the long hallway. _How's that for the temperature in you ranks, Megatron? _I thought sourly. _ It's hot enough out here to burn me into a crispy slag – or cold enough to kill me with frostbite – whichever way you care to look at it, my incredibly stupid Lord._ Still, they had a valid point. Megatron was foolish to let Caryn's heir (me) into his base.

I ducked into similar alcoves frequently along the way to the control rooms. Decepticons were always coming and going, reporting, receiving orders, beginning or leaving their shift on monitor duty. It was annoying, but it had to be done. The important, top secret files were in the unused control room, and they were the ones I wanted. Usually, Buzzsaw or Ravage accompanied me on my forays into the ranks, but they were both on missions of their own. That was a good thing; Ravage might have objected to helping me break into the Decepticons' main computer memory, and Buzzsaw would have spent the whole time fretting over what would happen to me if I got caught.

I smiled at the thought as I ducked into the empty control room and climbed onto the huge main computer. I booted it up cautiously and waited. _Something about this "Decepticon City" just isn't right,_ I thought to myself. A dialogue box opened on the screen in front of me. I plugged my data pad into the computer and used it to access the dialogue box. _Password: _it read. I hesitated, then let my fingers type in whatever seemed right. Remembering how much Megatron had trusted Caryn, I tried _Cytoplasm_. An error message appeared. I wasn't really surprised. The first thing Megatron would have done when rebooting his computer would have been to change the password. _All Hail Megatron_. It worked. Arrogant spawn of a glitch.

"Arrogant fool," I muttered under my breath as I scanned the files in the computer's memory. I had no idea what I was looking for, so I started with a search for the most recent files accessed. "Role call and drill accounts, missions reports, med bay records…come _on_! Where are the important files?" I hissed. "Oh. Here we go! What in the name of Primus's faceplate is the Trypticon project? Oh, well, looks interesting," I decided. I opened the document, and then froze in horror. There were blueprints, diagrams, and scanned-in sketches…all of a gigantic triple-changer named Trypticon – more casually known as Decepticon City.

"Slag it all," I whispered. The weapons diagrams showed cannons, launchers, lasers…all big enough and high-powered enough to wipe out an army. "Now that's a big gun," I whistled, trying to make light of the situation, even though no one was around to notice. The workings of the huge being Megatron was keeping in his basement were incredibly complex.

Booming Cybertronian footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. I cursed softly and began downloading the Trypticon files to my data pad – not the one Megacreep had given me, but the one I had gotten from the Autobots before I left. I finished the download and deleted the file from the computer's memory, then switched off the computer. The footsteps were almost to the control room door by that time.

I jumped down and squeezed myself under the consol, knowing that now; a high-ranking Decepticon would probably be in this chamber for a while, reviewing the documents in the computer's memory. Suddenly, I wished I hadn't deleted the Trypticon file. Whoever it was would probably notice. I didn't expect it when a giant blue hand reached under the consol and scooped me up.

"It's a good thing we found you," Soundwave rumbled. "Decepticon City will be Transforming soon." And it was. The room around me heaved, buckled. Soundwave carried me out of the building, then away from the city altogether. He put me down about a mile from the changing city.

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," I declared. He let me go over a nearby hill to 'be sick' in peace. As soon as the robot was out of sight, I took off running. I hadn't gone far before Buzzsaw swooped down in front of me.

"Need a ride?" he asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I replied, climbing onto his back. "We need to get to the Autobots – before Decepticon City does!" I climbed on and the golden hawk soared away. I glanced back once. In place of Decepticon City reared a huge, black, dinosaur-like creature. It roared in triumph. I gulped and told Buzzsaw to fly faster.


	6. Chapter 6

7

Karma

**Ch.6**

**Balance**

Buzzsaw didn't waste his time trying to find the abandoned mine entrance that lead through the mountain to Omega Supreme's cavern; he just flew straight through one of the many openings in the mountain's top meant to let in air and light. We came out – or in, depending on how you look at it – right above Omega's launch pad.

Once again, Buzzsaw didn't waste any time. He dove straight down, beak to the ground, wings parallel to the cavern walls (which were unnaturally straight). I clutched at the featherlike grooves in his armor and might have screamed, except the rush of air from our speed stole the breath from my lungs for an instant. A moment later, the golden birdbrain threw his wings out, hauled himself up, and braked as hard as he could. I tumbled off of his back and rolled, coming up in front of an amused but unimpressed Prowl.

"Hello again, Carma. It's so nice of you to come back," he drawled in a sort of Cybertronian version of a Southern accent (which was apparently difficult for him to maintain for long, because his next words were in his normal, clipped tone). "What brings you back here at such a high velocity?"

"No comments from the bucket of bolts with the sheriff badge," I snapped. "The Decepticons have five gestalts – you can report that to Prime yourself if you want, or I will when I tell him about Trypticon."

"Trypticon?" the security officer repeated.

"What you thought I came back tripping over my own feet because I missed you rustbuckets?" I growled. "No, their base – Decepticon City, they call it – is alive, and it Transforms – a triple-changer at least – and it's coming here," I informed him sharply. I was almost shouting by the time I finished.

"Trypticon?" Prowl repeated again. I didn't waste my limited breath in replying again. I just marched past him, right up to Omega Supreme's doors, and addressed the fortress.

"Here's the deal, Omega. I need you or some other Autobot to contact whoever's in charge around here. If Prime's available, great. Let me talk to him. Otherwise, I'll settle for whoever's next in line. We've got a city-sized Decepticon who's on his way. One blast from his cannons could blow this mountain apart – and the Deceps know where you are. I couldn't stop Ravage from reporting you location. If any of you are going to survive this, I have blueprints that need to get to someone who can make decisions and get a plan going," I explained.

"Enter, Human Carma. Optimus Prime is within," Omega Supreme boomed after a second or two. The enormous gray doors opened. I stepped inside, Buzzsaw hopping behind me. The doors slid shut with a sort of _snick_. The red and blue robot in the center of the room looked up in surprise.

"What in Primus's – oh. It's you – Carma, right? What can I do for you?" Prime asked politely. He had a slightly confused air about him, and I worried he'd react like Prowl and just say "Trypticon" over and over like an idiot. I held out my datapad, which he took carefully and connected to.

"The file in there marked 'Trypticon Project' – open it. The contents of that file might very well be stomping its way here now in city-scale bounds," I told the Autobot commander. He examined the data with some curiosity – which wasn't comforting. He was supposed to come up with a plan, not be curious and spend what time we had left with his big, ridiculous faceplate buried in data!

"And what, exactly, are we supposed to do with this information?" he asked finally. I couldn't believe it. He didn't have a plan!

"We need something of the same size, the same power, build a robot like this, or seriously upgrade one or more of your soldiers," I said after a moment's consideration. "The only problem is the Decepticon touches on Transforming and programming protocols – but I'm sure you have a technician or something who can fix that. Or I probably could," I added. I pulled out a hard copy of the data, made a few notes, and held it out. "See? If we make these changes to the design, and perhaps a few others, we could have a nasty surprise waiting for any future attacks."

"Future attacks? What about this attack, the one we have to deal with _now_?" Prime demanded. "I see your point, but we can't just commit to a project like this when we could be destroyed any minute." I could tell he didn't see, not really. For all his battle skills, Prime was a warrior, not a scientist. He was still caught up in the technical drawings on the datapad. He also, apparently, hadn't been outfitted with the "common sense" upgrade in the last few million years or so.

"Optimus Prime, Omega Supreme stands ready. No Autobots will fall while Omega Supreme stands," Omega thundered.

"But – oh." Prime finally saw what I had. Omega Supreme was a Transformer, too, according to his file. (Which had somehow found its way to my datapad; thank you, me. I'd downloaded everything the Decepticons had on both sides of this war.) "Duh. Okay, Omega, prepare for battle – and let Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Perceptor know they'll have a new project as soon as this battle is over."

"Yes, Optimus Prime," the fortress agreed. The mountain trembled.

"Autobots! Come out and meet your doom!" I wondered how Megatron had projected his voice into the mountain. He was probably using Soundwave.

"Sounds like the guests have arrived. All right, Autobots, Transform and roll out!" Optimus ordered over his comlink. The Autobots poured out of Omega Supreme's enormous gray form and then out of the mountain to meet the Decepticons who had surrounded our position. As soon as everyone was clear, Omega Supreme transformed. The mountain exploded, and a gigantic robot at least as big as Trypticon (who helpfully charged the Autobot so I could make a decent height comparison) emerged.

"Autobots and Decepticons, I give you Omega Supreme. Omega, give 'em hell!" Enormous optics glowed. What had once seemed to be a nondescript Autobot base had suddenly become the terror of the Autobot front line and was now stomping on terrified Decepticons, locked in combat with an equally huge and terrifying Transformer who was grunting what seemed to be threats.

I soared above the battle on Buzzsaw's back, surveying the battle. I dropped an anti-gestalt cluster bomb, and the Stunticons' collective alter-ego, Menasor, was blown to pieces. (Sorry, big guy…not!) A well-placed laser pulse (if I do say so myself), and Devastator reeled, one arm hanging limp and unusable at his side (Dumb 'Cons. Being so tall and everything, you'd think they'd look up every now and then!)

Crossbow bolts took one of the Seekers (Skywarp), then a Combaticon, then another Seeker (one I didn't recognize). An Autobot gave me a cheerful wave as he took charge of the now-half-dead Seeker. I waved back, then directed Buzzsaw skyward. The dark, sinister glint of sunlight on black armor caught my eye. Ravage was mauling a small, blue-and-white Autobot.

"There. Dive," I commanded. Buzzsaw obeyed, stooping toward the Decepticon cassette. "Slam him." Buzzsaw continued on his collision course as I rolled off his back and fell the last couple of feet to the ground. The golden bird rammed Ravage, carrying him off the Autobot.

"What the slag?" the robot mumbled. I shushed him, then reached for my toolbag, tucked inside my now-larger weapons bag for safekeeping.

"Easy. Let me see that arm," I urged softly. The Cybertronian was too weak to protest when I seared the wound with a special Energon solution (I wouldn't put it past the 'Cons to have dipped Ravage's claws in something nasty), then set about capping wires and field-patching the armor. "All right, what's your designation?" I asked as I made a final adjustment to the field patch.

"I'm Beachcomber. I wasn't supposed to be in this battle. I just wanted to see Omega in action; it's been so long since he's done any fighting. He was a friend of mine before…well." He looked at me.

"Don't worry about your friend," I sighed, pretending I didn't notice his reference to Caryn's trapping the Cybertronians in Rockslide Canyon. "He's holding Trypie off easily enough. Though I was kind of hoping to have time to install Perceptor and Wheeljack's new cannon so I could see him use it on Decepticon City," I admitted conversationally. The Autobot tested his arm (which his internal systems had probably halfway repaired by now), then studied me.

"You're that human," he realized. "Cytoplasm's heir." I nodded.

"I'm trying to balance out what she did," I told Beachcomber softly. Together we watched Omega Supreme plant his rocket-powered fist in Try[ticon's reptilian mouth.

"Slag yeah! Right in the slagging face!" someone across the battlefield cheered. Beachcomber and I chuckled a little, then turned to watch Buzzsaw give Ravage one last peck before finally letting him scamper off. The jaguar looked over his shoulder for an instant.

"It is done," he declared quietly.

"Your debt is paid, has been paid more fully than I can tell you," I agreed. "Go safely." Ravage darted away, back into the battle. He did not look back again. I glanced up at Beachcomber, who had watched the exchange without comment. He looked away from Buzzsaw's energon-coated beak and talons. Suddenly, I remembered that Beachcomber was a pacifist, a geologist, and had been the victim of the Cytoplasm's allegiance with the Decepticons.

"You know, you're not really like the Caryn I knew," he said. I shot him and incredulous glance. "No, I mean it. You're not Cytoplasm's heir, you're Caryn's heir. Caryn chose Jazz and Spike over Megatron and Soundwave in the end."

"All I want is balance," I told him. He smiled.

"Balance, like peace, is hard to achieve, especially in the middle of a war. But I have no doubt that you will bring balance Carma, if you haven't already."

"She tries. It's all thanks to me," Buzzsaw chirped with false modesty.

"Carma, agent of Karma, the Great Balance," Beachcomber murmured.

"That sounds kind of…cliché," Buzzsaw commented.

"But isn't the great thing about clichés the fact that everyone knows and believes them?" I pointed out, content for the moment to watch as the last of the Decepticons fled, gigantic Trypticon following them, limping slightly.

Cytoplasm's betrayal was paid for. I could step out of her shadow, live my own life.

"Carma?" Beachcomber called.

"Coming," I called back.

_Lynn Jones_


	7. Epilogue

1

Karma

**Epilogue**

**Heir**

"There. That's the one," I decided. I reached down and took the infant into my arms. Her parents were dead, and she had no other family that I could find. "She will be _my_ heir."

"I sense a great spirit within her," Buzzsaw intoned sagely. I wacked him.

"Shut up," I ordered before climbing carefully onto his back. We left the city's wreckage behind. I wished with everything in me that the Decepticons had not attacked the old, empty Technobot base. We hadn't heard in time. The city was destroyed, all for nothing.

"Even when you're fighting, she'll be well cared for," Buzzsaw pointed out. "Beachcomber and Jazz would die for her already, and they haven't even seen her. After all, they both owe you – and they love kids."

"Autobot sentimentality. You gotta love it," I sighed.

"Or at least live with it," my golden companion agreed.

"Little Carlyn will be raised on it," I pointed out.

"Oh, please don't go all old on me!" he wailed. I wacked him again.

"Shut up, birdbrain. You'll wake the baby!"

_Lynn Jones_


End file.
